Dawnlark Plains I don't want this winding up in the wrong hands

Stark was feeling unsettled and while he didn't feel right leaving the packlands it was clear that something had to happen. He could take a few days, maybe a week at maximum, and hope that things wouldn't completely fall apart. There was a nagging sensation that he might return to find Octavia had taken Tambourine off to who-knew-where and that might have been the biggest betrayal of all to him. It burned him up to think of them gone, but, it wasn't enough of a fear to make him abandon his duties to the pack. 

He needed to get the word out about Pippin and see if they could track him down - aside from that, he was woefully ignorant of the other packs natures and their locations. He'd started out with the first light of dawn, saying a quick goodbye to a few of his wolves and headed out on a similar path as he'd crossed before with Nova Rose. This time there was no annoying elder to bother him, no wolf to put their pride before their pack. 

He'd stopped a midday, the plains settled before him a stark (hah!) contrast to the landscape he'd grown used to in the Keep. It was near barren, evidence of herds that had crossed through the plains but otherwise life seemed as devoid as it had been during the famine. It wasn't exactly comforting.